Sunday, March 31, 2013

Hi everyone,
To celebrate the release of the latest installment
of the Bowen series, I'm giving away three copies (MTMTI, HI, or IEA,
your choice) to three lucky winners. All you have to do is leave a
comment with your favorite quote from any of my books. The sentence that
stuck with you. The one that made you laugh like crazy. Or cry like
crazy. Or sweat like crazy ;-) Whatever you prefer.
In a month 3 winners will be chosen among the participants.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Attention: Do not read if you haven't read Inked Ever After!! *****Contains major spoilers*****

Hi everyone, as promised, here you have the epilogue the publishers decided not to include in Inked Ever After. Their reasoning was sound; the book ended in such a high note, they didn't want anything after that.I, however, decided to post it for whoever wants to read it. After all, Inked Ever After is the last book featuring James and Tate, and I think they deserve an epilogue. Enjoy!Just keep in mind this is a rough, unedited version.

Epilogue

Ten years later

Cape John

Tate stepped out to the porch, where
James was sitting watching the stars, a beer in his hand. As she’d been doing
for ten years, she climbed onto his lap and as James had done for ten years
too, he welcomed her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple.

“Boys sleeping already?”

She nodded. “They took forever to
settle tonight. Especially Kev.”

“You’re tired, princess,” he said with
a frown, placing his hand on her bulging belly and gently caressing it. “I could
have taken care of getting them to bed. You didn't have to do it.”

She lifted her head and brushed her
lips with his. “I know, baby, but I wanted to. I missed them this afternoon.
Missed you too.”

James had spent the whole afternoon
with the boys, fishing. She would have loved to tag along, but she was getting
quite big and most days she needed a nap to keep up. Besides, fishing was
something James did with the boys. It was their thing.

Tate had been sitting on the porch,
reading a book after cooking supper, when she’d heard her men coming.

James had been carrying five-year old
Kevin over his shoulders as if he were a sack of potatoes, their younger son
laughing and squirming while his older brother, Jonah, was walking along his
dad, carrying his own fishing gear, all grown-up looking, talking animatedly to
James.

“Mom,” he’d called out, waving as
soon as he’d spotted her coming their way. “We caught some fish.”

“I see, baby,” she'd answered,
reaching them.

“Me too. Me too,” Kevin had shouted
lifting his head and trying to turn to her. James’s wonderful hazel eyes stared
at her from their son’s face. And that roguish grin of her husband’s too. “I
caught one fish. The biggest of them all. Mega huge. Put me down, daddy. Down.
Down.”

James had laughed. “All right, buddy.
Hold your horses.” Then, while lowering Kev to the ground, he'd turned to
Jonah. “You sure you didn't give him any sugar?”

“Swear, Dad. I gave him only five
M&Ms.”

By now Kevin was jumping up and down,
taking the bucket from his dad and yanking at Tate's hand, all at once. “Look,
mommy, look,” he’d insisted showing her their loot. “The big one is mine.”

She'd kissed the top of his head. “I
see, baby. You did good. Are the rest yours?” she'd asked looking at their
oldest son.

“Yes,” he'd answered, smiling. Jonah
was all Bowen too, from his blond hair to his facial features, except for his
pale blue eyes. Those were all hers.The
same his uncle Jonah had had. “Dad didn’t catch any. Again.”

James had snorted, amused. “Yeah,
yeah. You guys claimed all my catches. Like always. Get going home. Wash and
get ready for supper,” he'd ordered before turning to Tate and gently pulling
her in for a kiss.

She had been already in her tiptoes
leaning to him, her palm on his chest.

“You’re caked in sand, honey,” she'd
said after kissing him.

“No shit,” he’d chuckled, wrapping
his arm around her shoulder and bringing her deep into his side, caking her in
sand too. “Fishing with our sons is a damn messy business.”

Yep. She’d seen them fishing plenty
of times. Kevin was a handful, running around and chattering nonstop, unable to
sit quiet for more than five minutes. Add to that five M&Ms and well, you
had a tornado in your hands. Jonah was more calmed, but still. They required a
lot of attention, which James gave gladly. Attention, time, love; James gave
all of that unconditionally. Every day. All the time. He was a wonderful
father. Jonah and Kev adored him, but he adored them even more.

And that extended to all the Bowen
men. Cole and Max were married, with kids of their own, but there wasn't a
hockey match, school play or any other significant event in Jonah's or Kevin's
lives that didn't have all the Bowen men attending. Hell, even for the
insignificant ones the whole Bowen clan got together. Which she totally loved.

James had promised her to be the best
husband and the best father he could be, and damn if he hadn’t delivered. As
far as Tate was concerned, he was simply the best.

She stared at him as he took a sip of
his beer on the porch. James was now forty-four—turning forty-five in a couple
of months. He hadn't changed much; his body was as muscular and breathtaking as
always, but now he had some sexy wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and some
gray hair on his temples. He was more handsome than ever. Among other
additions, his back now sported two new tattoos; it was two small hands, prints
of Jonah’s and Kev’s hands at six months old. She loved all his ink, but those
handprints, and how proudly he wore them, were her favorites.

Many things had happened in these ten
years. There had been rough spots, but not even once had she had to doubt about
his love and commitment. Not even for a second. She’d seen him losing it only
once, right before Jonah’s birth, when he’d come home and found her bleeding in
the bathroom floor, almost unconscious. The only two times she’d seen him cry
had been in their boys’ births.

“They are excited about tomorrow,
that's why they took so long to settle tonight,” she said. “Everyone is going
to be at your dad's. We need to be early in Alden.”

“Ten years, princess,” he whispered
against her temple.

Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of
their wedding. Ten years. Which had passed in a flash. Up until now they'd
always celebrated alone, but this time Aunt Maggie had insisted in throwing
them a party.

She leaned her head on his shoulder
and, letting out a long sigh, looked up at the night sky. She loved it in Cape
John. Since James had bought this cabin, they'd spent all their summer vacations
here. No exceptions. The town was a very close-knitted community that, never
mind the vast amount of summer visitors, rarely let anyone in. Anyone but James,
of course. In a week the tattooed gangsta from out of town had had everyone in
his pocket. Even grandma Mendiola. Nowadays the Bowens had their own table in
Kamikaze. Jonah loved it there. Kevin wasn't too fond of sushi, but he loved
their famous Shin-chan roll, a concoction with mayonnaise and a sausage that would
make any self-respecting Japanese person cringe but had their son walking in
cloud nine. Max's little girls too.

“Do you remember what I accused you
of being the first time we met?” Tate asked into the night.

“A cat kidnapper?”

She let out a giggle. “No. I mean the
second time we met.”

James pondered for a long second. “A
black hole wrapped up in frilly paper interested only in sucking good girls
in?”

She turned to him, smiling. God that
memory of his. “Yes. How wrong was I, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know about the black
hole, but I do love sucking you,” he explained wiggling his eyebrows.

Tate broke into laughter. She still
wasn't sure how he did it, but James kept cracking her up. He had some
wrinkles, true, but so did she. Most of them were laugh lines caused mainly by
him. She relished every single one of them.

“That’s right. And you excel at it,
baby.”

They’d been together for a bit over a
decade, they had two boys and a third baby on the way, and yet James was as
passionate as always. Even more. Sex, like wine, got better with age. Who would
have guessed. Now though, since the kids, more often than not she ended up with
her face buried in a pillow, muffling her screams. And having sex behind closed
doors. No need to send their sons to the shrink so early in their lives.

“How many headaches do you think I
have given you since we met?” she asked in a whisper.

“Mmmm, not sure.Let me check my notebook.”

“Oh God. You keep track of those in a
notebook?” she asked horrified.

His chuckle rumbled through her body.
“Of course not, princess. The only thing I keep track on is the mischief of our
two daredevils. When they become moody teenagers and accuse us of being unfair
dicks, I’m going to take out that damn notebook and show them how uneven the
scales are.”

Tate laughed.

“I hope this one is a girl, princess,”
he added. “We need some balance here. Someone that obeys me.”

She couldn't stop herself from snorting.
Jonah and Kevin adored their dad. Idolize him. And if this baby was a girl, she
was going to have her dad wrapped around her tiny little finger in no time.

“And about the headaches, princess,
you’ve given me as many as I’ve given you.”

In that he wasn’t wrong. James was
the love of her life, but it had to be recognized that he could do arrogant and
bossy with the very best. His barbarian side hadn't gotten domesticated. At
all. Not in the bedroom, not out of it. Case in point being this cabin; she'd
tried paying him back for half of it, but no dice. No matter how hard she'd
tried, or how sneaky she got, James hadn't accepted a cent. Two years ago, for
his birthday, she'd decided to buy him a new truck, the one he'd been talking
about getting for a while. James had hit the roof when he'd seen it. Well, he'd
fucked her senseless and then had hit the roof. He'd accepted the gift, but next
day she had the full price of the truck in her bank account.

“Besides, when I woke up this morning
it wasn’t the headaches I remembered,” he continued, taking her out of her
thoughts.

“No?”

He tipped her face up. Kissed her
softly on her lips. “No, baby. Not at all. I remembered you running down the
aisle and throwing yourself in my arms during our wedding, my tattoo on your
back in plain sight for everyone to see. I remember you kissing the living
lights out of me even before the priest got a word in. I remembered you giving
birth to our two sons. How you held Jonah for the first time, scared out of
your wits you were going to do something wrong. I remembered how whole and at
peace I feel when I’m deep inside you. How much I need you in my life. How I
can’t really breathe without you. How much I love you. You are my wicked pirate
princess, a thousand times more precious and beautiful to me now than ten years
ago. And let's get real; you were pretty stunning to begin with.”

“Thank you, love,” she said blinking
tears away. “But it's all you. You are the
one who have made these past ten years spectacular. I love you, James. And
there is no day that I don't thank God I have you in my life.”

He brought her to him and kissed her
long and deep. And like always, she melted. His smell, his taste, his touch, all
drew her in, and in no time she was drowning in him. Breathless, her hands in
his hair, holding him to her.

“How tired is my princess?" he
whispered against her lips.

She smiled softly. “Not that tired,
baby.”

She was never that tired. And much
less in her state, with all her hormones running wild.

“Good,” he said brushing his knuckles
over her cheek. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

She was well in her third trimester
and would have loved to straddle him properly, but her stomach was in the way. She
pouted. “Getting quite big, James.”

“That's not true. I love making love
to you when you're pregnant, you know that, baby. I love how you wake up in the
middle of the night and reach for me, hot and needy. How you explode around me
the second I touch you. There is one thing I miss though; taking you with you
wrapped around me, your chest clued to mine, looking straight into your eyes.”

She smirked. “Getting tired of the
reverse cowgirl, I see.”

He barked out a laugh. “Never,
princess. You can ride me all you want.” He nibbled at her bottom lip, then
soothed it with his tongue, one hand wrapped around her neck, his thumb
caressing her jaw. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure the
cowgirl in question was on her hands and knees, in our bed, this morning. Moaning
into the pillow through her third orgasm.”

She blushed at his words. Or maybe it
was his touch what was giving her hot flashes. The erection poking at her thigh
perhaps? In any case, she had to put on the breaks.

“Wait, baby. Before you scramble my
brains, I got something for you,” she said gently pulling back. She reached for
the table near by and handled him an envelope she had hidden there while they
had been fishing.

He raised his eyebrow. “I recall you
clearly saying no presents this year.”

Sure she did. Every damn year for
their anniversary, and for all other special occasions, James came up with the
most amazing, thoughtful presents. So much so, that by their fourth anniversary
she was frigging self-conscious about giving him anything, because he would top
that, hands down. It didn’t matter how much money he spent; even the most
inexpensive gifts got her every time.

“Did you comply?” she asked.

James gave her a duh look, his snort
loud. “Of course not.”

As she’d figured. “So don’t complain
and open it.”

“What is it?”

She shrugged. “I thought you deserved
big compensation this year now that you won’t see me with the wedding dress. I
know how much you like me wearing it.”

She’d dyed the dress a darker beige,
shortened the train and transformed it into a sexy-like-hell nightgown that she
only and exclusively wore for their wedding anniversary.

In their first anniversary she’d been
nursing Jonah, who had been born four months prior, and her rather small boobs
had been huge. As in 'hello, can't see my shoes when I look down'. He’d seen
her with the dress, and they hadn’t made it in time to the restaurant.

Almost like in their wedding, where
they made it to the reception, but barely.

“I love you wearing that dress,
princess. This year you’d be as gorgeous in it as always,” he said gently caressing
her bulging stomach.

“I could model it for you before
going to bed tomorrow.”

His eyes flashed. “Deal.”

As he started opening the envelope, she
had a sudden case of jitters and stopped him. “Wait. What did you get me?”

A devilish smirk spread on his face,
robbing her of breath. God that he was handsome. Ten years and she still got
butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her. “Not telling you yet.”

Oh hell.

“Come on, just give me a hint; is it as
outrageous as that clone-a-dick thingy you got me for our first anniversary, or
are we talking about a romantic present like enlarging and framing that picture
of me nursing Kev while I was sitting on your lap and Jonah watched?” Because the
man was totally unpredictable, one never knew what he had in mind.

James smiled. “I thought the
clone-a-dick thing was very romantic, didn't you? Us naked, our hands and other
body parts covered in clay... That chick flick you made me watch a while back, Ghost?" he shook his head. “They
got nothing on us.”

She burst out laughing. “Come on.
Just a hint,” she repeated when she was able to talk again. She waited for him
to say something, but soon it became apparent he had no intention to. “Okay,
whatever. I'll make sure we are alone when you give me your present. Just in
case,” she said as she motioned for him to proceed.

He opened the envelope and took the
tickets out. “Princess--”

“This is for you, baby. You’d wanted
to spend our honeymoon in a deserted beach, doing nothing but being lazy and
making love instead of traveling to Italy.
So, I got us a two-week trip to the Cook Islands. It’s not deserted, but quite.
The biggest of all the islands, Rarotonga, can be circled by scooter in twenty
minutes tops. I hear downtown consists of one street and rush hour is when two
cars stop in the only traffic light of the whole place.”

“Tate--”

“Let me do this for you. Please,
James.”

He stared at her, love shinning
through hi eyes. “What about the boys, work, Rosita's?”

She smirked. “I have everything
organized. My mother and Ron are coming from Florida to stay with the boys, and
you and I are leaving for the beach in two days.”

“Baby, you’re pregnant. Very
pregnant.”

“That’s why it has to happen tomorrow.
In a bit over two weeks I’ll be eight months pregnant and the airline won’t let
me fly. I’ve already arranged it with Zack and Sean; you are off. They have
orders not to let you in the office after tomorrow, or call you. Or take your
calls. After the party at your parents’ place we will be spending the night in
a kick-ass hotel the name of which I’m not telling you. Suffice to say I
reserved the honeymoon suit. And asked them to make sure there's a swivel chair
in handy.”

James chuckled softly. “Princess—”

“Shush. After the party I’m
kidnapping you. For two weeks the only thing in our agenda will be lay on the
beach and make love. And that is that.”

A very male, very wicked grin
appeared on his face. He wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her to
him. “Bossy, Mrs. Bowen,” he whispered against her lips.

She encircled him with her arms.
Kissed him. “Learned from the best, Mr. Bowen. From the very best.”

Monday, March 18, 2013

Not knowing what to do, Tate covered his eyes with
her hands and went for a chirpy tone she hoped didn’t sound fake.
“James, you shouldn’t see the dress. It’s bad luck.”

“Not watching
the dress, baby.” He moved her hands away and held her gaze for the
longest time. She tried ducking to escape his scrutiny, but he tipped
her head back with a finger on her chin and forced her to withstand it.

She offered him a tight smile, biting her lip so it wouldn’t tremble, and braced herself for the interrogation.

But it didn’t come.

His jaw clenched several times. “Doing wedding stuff this morning?” he asked, his gaze lowering to her necklace.

She nodded.

Then he just asked, “You all right?”

She plastered a smile on her face. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated slowly, his expression tight. “And that?” he asked, motioning at her with his chin.

His face got harsher. He took a step closer to her, and she heard her dress getting ruffled.

“Baby,
the dress!” She was far more worried about keeping up the charade than
the fate of the dress. Not that a size-ten footprint on the cloth was
going to be easy to explain.

“I don’t give a shit about the damn dress,” he growled, his savage tone dripping with disapproval and impatience.

“Please, James.”

He
stared at her. He must have seen the look of desperation in her eyes,
the one she was fighting so hard to hide, for he let out a long sigh.
“Fine. Hop up, princess,” he said encircling her waist and lifting her.
Before he could move her aside, she wrapped her legs around his hips and
threw her arms around his neck.

James cursed, tightening his hold on her.

“Baby.”

With
her still in his arms, he reached for the dress and, without looking at
it, tossed it out of the way to the corner where all her clothes lay.

She
stayed like this for a long while, hugging him tight, her face nestled
in the crook of his neck, soaking in his warmth and his strength. Being
able to breathe again. She could feel his erection, thick and hard,
against her core, but his touch was not sexual. He held her gently,
protectively, one hand open and cupping the back of her head, the other
one splayed on her back.

God, she loved this man so much. His
mere presence infused her with fortitude. With him around she felt
cherished and protected beyond anything she’d experienced before.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Tate,” he said against her hair. “Look up.”

She didn’t move.

“Not too fond of repeating myself, baby.”

She
lifted her head. His face was carved in tight lines, but his eyes were
gentle. And damn compelling. He curled his hand around her neck and
brushed her lips with his thumb.

“You need to stop hiding and give me your mouth.”

She
did. Soft, tender kisses and deep, hard ones, until she was boneless
and dazzled and her mind was full of only him. As she opened her eyes,
she stole a glance of them in the mirror, and her breath froze in her
lungs. What a view—him with his black T-shirt, his faded jeans, and
those sexy cowboy boots, standing tall and solid, his broad shoulders
taking more than his fair share of the room, and her in pearls, fuck-me
heels, and satin lingerie all wrapped around him.

“I look good on you,” she whispered.

He
caught her eyes in the mirror and then turned to her, a devilish smile
on his face. “Yes, you do. Not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you
wearing a bra?”

“It looks like the wedding dress I’m getting doesn’t allow for a bra.”

He grimaced. “Elle’s idea, right? Maybe I should have paid more attention to the dress.”

“Maybe you should have.”

He slid his hand to the lace at the top of her stockings and her garter belt.

“Love the white, virginal underwear.”

“Good. I’ll be sure to wear it for the wedding. Although I’m not sure the dress allows for panties either.”

“Fuck,
baby,” he cursed in a low growl, leaning his forehead on hers. “You
come to our wedding without a bra and without panties, and I can assure
you we won’t make it to the reception. Hell, we’ll be lucky if I’m not
inside you the second you say yes.”

Of that, she had no doubt whatsoever. “Duly noted, honey.”

“If
you’re taking requests, then this hairdo needs to go,” he added,
grabbing the loose knot at the back of her head and unraveling it. “I
want this gorgeous hair of yours flowing around you as you walk down the
aisle to me.”

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About Me

After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.